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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175329">Primarch Trash Party</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphoticdepths/pseuds/aphoticdepths'>aphoticdepths</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandon all hope ye who enter here, Angst, Boot Worship, Come Inflation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Erotic Horror, Gangbang, Group Sex, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, One Shot Collection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Sounding, Torture, Whipping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:40:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphoticdepths/pseuds/aphoticdepths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you and your friends make up a really really dumb porny AU and you write thousands of words of PWP in that AU that are motivated solely by id and horniness and you kind of have enough shame to not post them, and then you look at the rest of the content in this fandom and the actual contents of this fandom and decide 'yeah you know what, screw it'.</p><p>Pretty much entirely noncon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Emperor/Perturabo(size kink, come inflation)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Context: So, the vague explanation is that there are two AUs. One of them, Horus wins and the loyalists are all captured and gangbanged and tortured because Chaos, baby.</p><p>The other, much more convoluted one, is that the Emperor wins but all the traitors are alive and the loyalists need to do magic ritual torture gangbangs to save him and power the Astronomican. And then the Emperor fucks them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Perturabo had loved his father once. Now, standing before him-he would not kneel, he would not give him that victory-he felt a ghost of what there had been. The Emperor was beautiful. Or so Perturabo would have thought once. In his nakedness he was so perfect it almost hurt to look at him, a idealized giant of impossible size and beauty, his face in solemn contemplation of the man before him. He radiated authority and glory. Before him, Perturabo felt more exposed and vulnerable in his nakedness than he had in front of his brothers and even in front of the Emperor's guards. Once, he would have knelt, but now he would never do so again.<br/>
<br/>
"You swore loyalty to me." His father's voice was smooth and deep, resonating within Perturabo's bones. "You swore to do whatever I wished. You <em>failed</em> me." He rose to his towering height from his throne, walking towards him without haste.<br/>
<br/>
"You failed me," Perturabo snarled. "I gave everything I had for you. You never once acknowledged-"<br/>
<br/>
"And why would I?" the Emperor asked. "You, Perturabo, are a tool. I told you as much myself. My Hammer. And what use is there for a defective tool? A tool that does not do its work?"<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo lunged at him in blind fury, even knowing what would happen-his father caught him, halting his movement seemingly without effort and pushing him to the ground easily.<br/>
<br/>
"Hands and knees." The words were a command, and one that Perturabo's body obeyed even as he tried to force himself to resist. His mind and spirit were powerless to prevent him from kneeling before his father and presenting himself like a dog.<br/>
<br/>
Rage and hatred filled him. Of course, he thought. Of course, of course, of course. He did not allow any furious tears to well up-that would be weakness. Instead, Perturabo merely trembled with hatred-and <em>only</em> hatred. He was not afraid. He did not think about his father's size, even as his father moved behind him and he felt the touch at his entrance. His finger was the size of one of his brother's cocks.<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo did not fear this, he told himself. He would hate it. He would remember it, to visit upon those who had abused him like this when he would free himself. He was iron and iron did not bend or break.<br/>
<br/>
His father's finger penetrated him and he made no noise. It was too big, the stretch painful and it was only one finger. He was iron. How large would his cock be in proportion? He was iron. It wouldn't fit. He was iron. The finger was moving in him, slowly, almost cautiously, stretching him open with a burning pain that was <em>nothing.</em><br/>
<br/>
There was another finger. Perturabo forced himself to remain still as it entered him. He would not tremble. He would not react. He would not even breathe quicker. His father's fingers moved together, pulling him open. Iron within, iron without. Iron within, iron without. It was /too much/, he already could barely accommodate these two fingers, the stretch was already painful, if his father- "Iron within, iron without." He stared at the Palace floor, at the damnable gold. That was not his anchor-his anchor was, as always, himself.<br/>
<br/>
"This is your new use, my son. You have failed me utterly as a tool for war, and you seem to be worse at your new purpose."<br/>
<br/>
"<em>Go to hell.</em> Suffer--" His breath came in a hiss that was almost a noise of pain at the end. To show pain was surrender. It was to show his father he was weak. He would not be weak in front of the Emperor. He had to control himself. He was iron. Iron within, iron without. Iron within, iron without.<br/>
<br/>
A third finger. "Iron within, iron without," he whispered, his hoarse voice carefully even. His hands had begun to tremble because two fingers had already been more than enough. Three was, he suspected, physically far too much.<br/>
<br/>
It was still less than what his father wanted. "Iron within, iron without. Iron within, iron without."<br/>
<br/>
Then he felt the burning heat of his father's head against him as he pulled his hand back and the mantra died on his lips. It was too big. It was proportional to his father's size but it was far, far too big to go inside of him. It could not fit. "Iron within-" he began.<br/>
<br/>
The Emperor made it fit. He would not make noise. He would not spasm and flail. He would not weep or tremble. His fingers grabbed into the auramite of the floor hard enough to leave faint dents, but that was all he could do as sealed as he was. Perturabo bit the inside of his cheek until he bit through and bit down again. The pain tensed his muscles, should have made them impenetrable as all his strength went into clenching and keeping his father out, but he was nothing to the Emperor. His father pushed inside of him where he should have not been able to and ripped him open.<br/>
<br/>
"You could have built your utopia," the Emperor said. His voice demanded attention even through the blinding haze of pain and burning humiliation, calm and unaffected by the act he was engaged in. "I would have allowed you to pursue your dreams. But instead, you chose to be foolish. <em>Ungrateful.</em> You had every opportunity to turn back. All you have done is proved that this is your place, beneath me."<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo wanted to shout him down, to rage and deny him, but his mind was focused nearly entirely on preventing himself from reacting. Each of his muscles was tensed, trembling with the force of holding back his pain and humiliation and keeping himself in place, and yet his strength did nothing against his attacker, the Emperor stabbing through his flesh without effort. The only thing that kept his pace slow was whatever care he had to not utterly destroy Perturabo.<br/>
<br/>
And yet he advanced, thrusting deeper and deeper into him. Perturabo's mouth was filled with blood, and his body felt as if it would be ripped in two. He could feel the Emperor's cock pushing against him from the inside, straining the skin of his stomach. Minute tremors wracked his body, only his nature as a Primarch giving his legs the ability to hold him.<br/>
<br/>
"I am only half of the way." His father's hand stroked his ribcage lightly, almost gently, and Perturabo's breath broke into a ragged sobbing gasp as his mind spun with bilious hatred and a terrible urge that he refused to accomodate. He would not lean into the touch, he told himself, even as he breathed in broken shuddering pants. He shed no tears, and there was that, at least. He would not cry for his father, he told himself. He would not cry. He could could not force back control over his breathing, only clutch at what scraps remained as the screaming pain and violation of his father's intrusion only advanced.<br/>
<br/>
"You do yourself credit." His father's voice was almost gentle as his hand went from his chest to his face, touching it with a <em>gentleness</em>, an intimacy he had only allowed from two hands. At the touch, Perturabo couldn't stop the broken, keening groan that forced its way from between his clenched teeth as his father pulverized his way through him.<br/>
<br/>
He kept his noise to that-low grunts and strangled groans, clinging to the scraps of his dignity with bleeding fingers as his father pushed deeper and deeper into him. He kept thinking that with the next he would feel it in his throat. It was a struggle to bite back the noise now he made it, a struggle to not scream.<br/>
<br/>
There would be more, it always seemed. Every time he thought it would rip out through his stomach or his throat, it would rupture his body, or there could simply be no more <em>to</em> his father's length he kept pushing onwards. Perturabo held back as much as he could, only making the guttural noises the onslaught forced out of him. His legs were disgustingly splayed and ran wet with his own blood but he kept himself up on his hands, trembling pathetically.<br/>
<br/>
Even grasping what control he could had did not change the nature of this. It was filthy and shameful and disgusting, a humiliation of him on the deepest terms, just as every day here had and would be. Hot pressure burned behind his eyes that he would not allow to burst.<br/>
<br/>
It was an eternity of pain before his father's slow, unrelenting movement stopped. Before Perturabo felt the Emperor's balls on the backs of his thighs and knew that his Primarch body was the only thing that meant he had not died from the sheer size of what he took within him.<br/>
<br/>
"Now let us begin."<br/>
<br/>
And his father drew back, let his body collapse on itself and ripped again where he had torn and in the milliseconds or years when Perturabo was reeling from that pain he slammed back in.<br/>
<br/>
A scream was torn from Perturabo's throat, as if the force of his father's thrust had pushed it out. He tried to force himself under control again, but his father's pace was hard and relentless and he could not prevent scream after scream from being ripped from his throat, until he could acclimatize-as much as anyone could-to the agonizing pain of his organs being rendered into pulp. He was able then to force his screams down, to bite them back and groan in agony instead. He did not weep, at least. (That too was a struggle.)<br/>
<br/>
"You have wanted this, my son."<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo screamed defiant, humiliated rage, because he could not deny that truth. It had not been like that, not <em>then</em>, but now this was all there was.<br/>
<br/>
"I have seen this in your thoughts. A hunger you did not speak for a perfect presence. A desperate desire to serve. Here it is."<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo wanted to try to crawl away, to hide from the consuming pain and the awful truths, but his whole body was paralyzed by pain and the intrusion. He was a fish impaled on a hook. All he could do was hold himself up on his ruined legs and let it happen. He could physically feel the nauseatingly wrong sensation of his organs being rearranged, shifting with each thrust that deformed his body in ways that should not exist.<br/>
<br/>
He did not beg. He was able to keep most of his screams in, until his father came. Then he screamed again as the heat and liquid filled his body, bloating his stomach around the cock that did not soften. He must look disgusting, horrible. His words came out in a raw, pleading rasp. "Father..."<br/>
<br/>
Damn him! Damn him, damn him, damn him! Was he going to break? How could he break?! He was iron! Iron!<br/>
<br/>
And then his father's hands clasped Perturabo's hips and easily moved him-a fulcrum that effortlessly controlled his movement. His legs pulsed with pain and dangled uselessly, feet not touching the ground as the Emperor turned him around. He stared up into his father's perfect, serene face, into his golden eyes that were glorious and without any mercy.<br/>
<br/>
Then the Emperor began to thrust upwards into him at an equally merciless pace, and Perturabo couldn't keep his words back. "Father, father, father, father..." The words were a meaningless, almost sobbing chant as a way to not plead, to not beg him to stop. His father's semen leaked from his ruined hole when he pulled out, but it barely had a moment until he slammed back in. What strength he had previously focused on holding back as much as he could now simply went to preventing his tears. He would not plead and he would not weep. His father would destroy him in every other way, he would be humiliated and destroyed and ruined in every other way, but he would not give up this.<br/>
<br/>
"You are strong," his father lied as he forced a broken gasp from Perturabo. "That is admirable, in its way. But this is your purpose, and you will fulfill it better than your others."<br/>
<br/>
"Father, father, father..." His eyes closed tightly and he did not cry.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanted to leave the battlefield. Is that what you never asked me? To have leave from making war? This is your peace, my son."<br/>
<br/>
Perturabo had had no hope for that any more. He supposed it was fitting. All that motivated him now was spite and hate, and now the target of that hate had...repurposed him. He would be no diplomat, no engineer, no leader. Only his father's cocksheath.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, of all of it, that was what broke him. It was no sobbing fit. Only a single tear, sliding down his cheek, but it still had him collapse as though he had had some great string cut. That measure of dignity was taken from him as his father's thrusts cut his breath into sobs, the Lord of Iron breaking into pieces. He hated himself for all of it, the panting cries of "Father, <em>father</em>," that came out of his mouth because he would not beg even like this, the tears on his face, the way he had to cling to his father like an infant, and worst of all the hideous shame that he had broken. He had <em>failed</em>.<br/>
<br/>
His father's face did not change like some men did when they came. His breathing did not increase. He did not moan or breathe harder. He said, with no difference in his tone, "Dorn would not have wept," and Perturabo's broken, shameful rage just made him cry harder as his father again filled him. He did not look down to see how swollen and disgusting he was, how his body had by his father been warped from a machine of war to a sex toy. He felt as if he might vomit.<br/>
<br/>
"You are weak," his father said. "You have always been weak." He pulled him off, slowly and agonizingly, the pull back of his <em>still hard it was still hard</em> cock agonizing his screaming nerve endings. He threw him to the ground and Perturabo collapsed, groaning when his brutalized body hit the gold of the floor. His hand moved, trying to find a way to drag his broken body away, but the Emperor moved quicker than he could, mounting him and crushing him beneath his weight. Perturabo could at least try to look away this time, but his father's fingers firmly guided him by the jaw back to look into his eyes as he thrust his entire length in again. Perturabo screamed, the noise broken and hoarse.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you remember Olympia?"<br/>
<br/>
And then the memories were there. He was watching Olympia burn and Calliphone was dead and he was also on the Palace floor beneath his father and he was weeping, he was <em>wailing</em> now-he had hardened himself to suffering, he had buried that part of him and tried to forget it but now the pain and the hatred for himself was raw and new and bleeding because he was there again. He felt disgust at what he was doing but it was drowned out beneath the horror of what he had done and the horror of what was being done to him, his limbs weakly spasming as he sobbed out a pleading litany of, "Fatherfatherfather I'm so sorry forgive me father father father it hurts father please forgive me forgive me I'm sorry father..."<br/>
<br/>
It went on for several hours after that. After he had been filled to the point it had nowhere to go but out from his nose and mouth, the Emperor had allowed him to vomit it out, to desperately purge himself of his father's seed, before starting on his mouth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Guilliman/traitors and Sanguinius+Horus/Magnus(sounding, rough sex, gore)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing that Magnus truly despised as much as the sensation of something spiralling beyond his control.</p><p><br/>Horus had made the ultimatum to Sanguinius, as Guilliman tried to remain silent under his ministrations. "Well? If you would spare him from our brothers, do it yourself."</p><p><br/>All Magnus had meant was something of an assistance-biomancy, a telepathic reassurance, helping him into a full erection when he could not. Its effect had been...changed. Magnus, of course, knew who to blame for it.</p><p>Horus stood besides him now, his hand resting on Magnus's thigh as the edges of his armor pressed against Magnus's flesh. "You always surprise me, Magnus." Sanguinius's beautiful face was twisted into something bestial as he drove into Guilliman with enough force to send some of Lorgar's seed spilling out onto the ground. He bit repeatedly at his flesh, leaving messy, deep wounds that he slavered and slurped at. Beneath him Fulgrim lounged with an expression of amusement, toying with the razor-edged toy he had inserted into Guilliman's unwillingly hardened cock with the edge of a nail.</p><p><br/>Guilliman, as always, tried not to scream. The low groan he was making was perhaps more unnerving, a hellish guttural noise of pure agony. His teeth were grit, his face a mask as gruesome as Sanguinius's. </p><p><br/>Horus's hand reached under Magnus's loincloth, palming his cock. "Giving me a nice little surprise like this? You impress me, truly you do." His power had dominated Magnus's and twisted it, made it what he willed-and now, he did so again. Magnus was silent as Horus groped his cock, squeezing his fingers around it. "And this doesn't even get you hard," he continued. "Just what is it that you <em>like</em>? I ought to sit in on your sessions with Russ."</p><p><br/>He would find little there. If Magnus had wanted to hurt Sanguinius, he would not have done anything like this. Not as brutal, not as <em>physical</em>. This would be easy to go too far at, to make Russ unworkable-though he did enjoy more direct means on occasion, he took pride in his ability to reduce Russ to screaming and begging without touching him or leaving a mark.</p><p><br/>It wouldn't have been like this. Fulgrim lowered his head with a sinful chuckle, the tips of his fangs brushing against Guilliman's nipple, and Guilliman made a horrible, choked-off shriek as Sanguinius continued to lap at his neck. The Angel's nails had ripped Guilliman's skin to tatters where they dug into the muscle of his thigh. Guilliman bucked between his brothers, raw agony drawn taut in each line of his body.</p><p><br/>Horus' thumb ran over Magnus's cockhead. "He's beautiful," he murmured as Sanguinius drew back to spit out a chunk of Guilliman's raw, bloody flesh. Across the room, Lorgar stared entranced at the spectacle-both of them fascinated by separate sights. </p><p><br/>Sanguinius dove down for Guilliman's ear, but Fulgrim reached a hand up to yank on the Angel's perfect curls. "Ah, ah, ah," he said sweetly. "Remember? That's one of the rules. You can't remove anything." He twisted the rod in a circle and Guilliman made another awful noise as Sanguinius snarled, slamming his hips into him with force that could likely kill an unenhanced human-maybe even an Astartes. His other hand shoved Guilliman's arm down, cracking bone.</p><p><br/>Magnus had wanted to ease Sanguinius's burden(always too soft, he'd always been). Not this. Sanguinius would be destroyed by this.</p><p><br/>Or someone else. Mortarion looked down at the entwined brothers. "We can't continue this," he said. "If Angron or I go at him, he'll die." Magnus could almost thank him.</p><p><br/>Lorgar moistened his lips slowly, blinking as if awoken from a dream. "Yes...yes. You're right. Once you've finished."</p><p><br/>Fulgrim's lips formed a delicate, enticing pout. "But I had so many ideas, and the faces he makes when he tries not to scream are <em>delicious</em>. Would you have me take it out now too?" His tone was petulant as he directed it to Horus.</p><p><br/>Magnus himself tried to stand firm, but could not help but lean against Horus, breath coming in hot pants. The display was far from arousing, but Horus's ministrations had still gotten him hard. Horus moved his thumb in a way that had Magnus suppressing as he spoke. "You do make a point. We don't want him <em>too</em> hurt, and Sanguinius lets no one off lightly." The Warmaster's dark eyes went to the creature defiling his brother, lingering and admiring.</p><p><br/>It was Alpharius who stepped in, reaching to take Guilliman's chin in hand. His face was a rictus death-mask dripping with sweat, his eyes wild with pain. Broken groans issued from his mouth. "Fulgrim. Stop playing for a moment. Roboute, tell me-do you want this to stop?"</p><p><br/>Fulgrim's hand did not move, but Roboute's head fell forwards against Alpharius, weakly.</p><p><br/>"We will let you stop. If you thank us. Fulgrim, take that out, with his mouth like that he'll bite it off."</p><p><br/>Guilliman weakly shook his head.</p><p>Alpharius shrugged. "All right, then. I suppose it's all the same if you're ready for another session or if you'd rather take it in this one. Though we'll probably have to double up after Sanguinius has gone at you. And Angron and Konrad haven't gone yet, have they?"</p><p><br/>Alpharius paused to let Guilliman think it over. Fulgrim was still as well, though Sanguinius continued to drive into Guilliman-neither had gone quiet. Sanguinius's melodious voice was twisted into feral growls, while Guilliman had died down to harsh panting, the touch of a keen as Sanguinius pushed down on his broken bone.</p><p><br/>Guilliman's voice was barely audible, face twisted in shame and hatred for himself as he whispered "Stop."</p><p><br/>Alpharius shed the necessary plates of his armor, already hard and waiting. Fulgrim slowly, painstakingly removed his sounding device, making sure to scrape as many false starts as he could. Sanguinius's growls rose to a higher pitch and he pushed even further into his brother-Guilliman still did not scream, but a sob of pain came out of his mouth at this. Sanguinius tensed in orgasm, not stopping for a moment-in fact, only going with more fervor.</p><p><br/>Magnus felt a twitch of acid in his throat, even as his precome wetted Horus's hand and his hips canted up into him.</p><p><br/>"Quite the show," Horus said, a guttural note to his voice. "He is incredible, isn't he?"</p><p><br/>"Our stamina is fun, isn't it?" Alpharius asked. "Now tell me thank you. When I come, we'll pull him off you."</p><p><br/>Guilliman was trying so very hard not to scream or weep-it looked almost as though he was in the grip of a heart attack. "Thaaank...you..."</p><p><br/>Alpharius slid his cock into his mouth. Each of Sanguinius's rapid, ferocious thrusts shoved his brother further down uuntil he was already at the base. Guilliman had no opportunity for technique-there were some messy attempts at sucks to get it over with quicker, but he was in pain and his movements were not his own. Involuntarily his drool oozed out of his mouth, lubricating what he did. How Alpharius reacted could not be seen.</p><p><br/>Guilliman could not keep his teeth out of the way-though he knew biting would be one of the worst things he could do here, he was barely able to control anything he did and his teeth scraped again and again on Alpharius's member. What noises he made might have been pleasurable and might have not-helmeted and still, Alpharius did not even touch him, making no indications of arousal or not. It was a ploy, everyone knew, to make Guilliman humiliate himself in desperation, and he tried to keep what of his dignity he could.</p><p>The only warning Guilliman had that Alpharius was coming was when he abruptly pulled out. His seed painted Guilliman's face, and the Hydra nodded to the others.</p><p><br/>Horus released Magnus, who tried to sound much less needy and unfulfilled than he was as Horus and Angron seized Sanguinius, pulling him back from Guilliman's brutalized body.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Alpharius and the Khan, no actual sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Khan immediately went on alert when he saw which one of his brothers entered. Even like this, Alpharius remained an enigma-he fucked him with the others, they joined in the foul orgies, but he never removed his helmet and the intercourse was almost detached.<br/><br/>He was chained. Always chained. Kept unable to move even an inch from the wall, forced to kneel in the filth of himself and his brothers until some whim decided to have him cleaned.It wouldn't surprise Jaghatai if it had been Alpharius who had left him chained in the dark to rot here-it was a mind game but with none of Curze's madness or obsessive cruelty. This was worse than his brother's tortures. <br/><br/>"Alpharius," he said. He had not realized exactly how hoarse his voice was until now.<br/><br/>The figure cocked its helmed head, but said nothing. With one hand, he held a box that Jaghatai could only guess at the contents of. The cell he was kept in when he was alone was barely large enough for both of them to fit in, the walls painfully close. Had he not been chained, Jaghatai knew the ceiling was too low for him to stand up. Alpharius had no such difficulty.<br/><br/>The eye-slit in his helm was level with Jaghatai's eyes as he was forced to kneel. Alpharius's gauntled hand reached out to touch the mixture of dried and fresh blood that crusted over his forearms. They were still bloody and raw from his latest struggle against the chains, but he showed no reaction. He knew it was pointless and stopped when it began to truly hurt him, but to accept the imprisonment was even worse.<br/><br/>"Good," Alpharius said. He pressed down for a moment, before withdrawing his hand and moving forwards, too close to him. The current of frustrated claustrophobia always running below the surface screaming for the Khan to <em>move</em>, to <em>run</em>, to <em>get away</em> burned like fire.<br/><br/>"We should have talked more before this," Alpharius said in a conversational tone.<br/><br/>Jaghatai did not respond.<br/><br/>Alpharius took two steps backwards from him and sat down cross-legged on the floor. The Khan kept his eyes on him, tracking every movement he made as his brother opened the box. He withdrew a regicide board which he placed on the ground between them, keeping it away from the waste and blood that had dried on the floor near Jaghatai. In the rest of the box was a set of exquisitely carved pieces.<br/><br/>The Khan carefully watched every movement of his brother's hands as Alpharius set the board. Neither of them spoke.<br/><br/>"Which will you play?" Alpharius asked him.<br/><br/>He shook his head.<br/><br/>"Your legion calls for joy, for taking opportunities. Were I in your position, I would think a game of regicide instead of my brothers' amusements a blessing rather than a mere relief."<br/><br/>"You play more games than just regicide."<br/><br/>"Many do. The Phoenician is a great player of regicide as well. Would you prefer to play with him?"<br/><br/>That was a different story than Alpharius. Fulgrim tended to prefer causing his brotherspain, but it was never certain whether his torments would be agonizing or if he would drown him instead in unwanted pleasure. Or he would use both. Whichever his whim favored, he was extremely skilled at meting out both. It was something that the Khan knew would be terrible, but that was a known quantity. With Alpharius, there was simply an unknown.<br/><br/>In a way, it was thrilling-it was something to occupy himself rather than the crushing walls of his entrappment, a thrill of adrenaline to strengthen himself with. "What are the stakes?"<br/><br/>"Good," Alpharius said, pleased.<br/><br/>"What are the stakes?" the Khan repeated.<br/><br/>"If I win, I will do with you as Horus expects me to. If you win, I will leave and you will have had a good game. I am not a sore loser like Fulgrim. You may trust my word."<br/><br/>The Khan snorted a laugh at that, though he had little choice.<br/><br/>"I assume you will play white?"<br/><br/>He nodded. "My hands are chained."<br/><br/>"Your mouth will serve." Alpharius said, and after a long pause added, "to move the pieces." The Khan glared at him, but his serpentine helmet was unreadable as ever. "You are white," the Hydra said with a gesture of his hand. "You will move first."<br/><br/>Jaghatai craned his neck and leaned forwards, taking a piece between his teeth and moving it. Alpharius responded.<br/><br/>"Why are you doing this?" the Khan asked.<br/><br/>"I do many things. You will have to be clearer." Alpharius's speech was casual, giving no indication of the position they were in, and somehow that made the act of making his next move more humiliating than it was to kneel before Horus or kiss Fulgrim's feet. <br/><br/>"Why are you doing this, with me, now?"<br/><br/>Alpharius sighed. "As I said. I wish we had spoken more. You are much, much more than you appear, brother. I admire that-we have more in common than we'd think. You like to keep your secrets, and I can respect that."<br/><br/>"So you decide to play a board game while I am your prisoner."<br/><br/>"Indeed." <br/><br/>Helmet or not, his attention was fixated on him and Jaghatai had to bite back his humiliation as he made his next move, tendons rigid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Fulgrim/Clone Fulgrim/Ferrus Manus(marathon sex, rough sex, cbt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ferrus Manus was in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim remembered how much the daemon had smiled, how many teeth it had shown. His silken voice purred into his head <em>Didn't I tell you it was the most wonderful present?</em><br/>
<br/>
Ferrus Manus was in front of him. Fulgrim's world spun, his hearts feeling like they would rip him in two. It was Ferrus, the same as he had been, the same man he had loved, except for the metal gauntlets in place of his hands. Even with his face contorted in rage and hate, it was still recognizably <em>his</em> in the anger.<br/>
<br/>
"You!" he growled and lunged for him.<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim couldn't move back-he didn't want to. It was <em>Ferrus</em>. The memories might have not been his, but he loved him and he was alive now. His brother tackled him to the ground-his hands did not feel like he remembered-face a mask of fury.<br/>
<br/>
"Ferrus-" Fulgrim said, and Ferrus smashed his gauntleted hand into his face. And then again. And again. Nose broken, cheekbone broken-<br/>
<br/>
"I'll kill you!" Another punch.<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim tried to shout at him to stop, but Ferrus hit him in the jaw as he opened his mouth even as his nose and mouth filled with blood.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you dare fucking speak to me, traitor. Daemon. You think I'll go easy because you look like this? I know what you are."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not-"<br/>
<br/>
Another punch. "I'm going to <em>ruin</em> your pretty face."<br/>
<br/>
<em>Such a brute,</em> the daemon said behind him. <em>Our brute-no, my brute now, really.</em> He reached out a transparent clawed finger that Ferrus did not notice, trailing it down his jawline as he grabbed Fulgrim by the hair, yanking his head up to slam down into the floor. <em>But he still wants you, doesn't he?</em><br/>
<br/>
"No," Fulgrim managed as Ferrus slammed his head into the floor again. "Please no."<br/>
<br/>
"You're using your witchcraft on me," Ferrus growled. The daemon had afforded neither of them the mercy of clothing and he could see his cock angry and hard between his legs, because the daemon liked forcing pleasure on him almost as much as he liked pain and Fulgrim knew that that had to be even more true for Ferrus. How long? How long had he been keeping this secret? How had he tormented him before this? How many times had Fulgrim wept for Ferrus not knowing that...was this from Fabius as well? Had he made him?<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not," he managed. Tears were running from his eyes, salt stinging where Ferrus's blows had broken the skin.<br/>
<br/>
"SHUT UP!" The blow this time was to his ribcage, hard enough to damage it. His knee shoved down on his thigh as Ferrus rained down blows on him. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" He didn't seem to care where they landed, only that they hurt him.<br/>
<br/>
"Please stop" Fulgrim gasped through split, bleeding lips. "I didn't-I'm not him-I didn't do anything-"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut your fucking mouth! You <em>want</em> this."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't." He shook his head desperately, tears burning where they ran. "I don't!"<br/>
<br/>
"You liar. You want me to hurt you. You want me to <em>rape</em> you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't! I-Please, Ferrus, I'm-Fabius cloned me, I'm not him! I love you!"<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus's voice went lethally quiet, the rage on his face freezing. "You sick fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not-"<br/>
<br/>
One of Ferrus's hands grabbed his throat and squeezed with a vicious pressure that stopped just short of crushing it. "If you say that to me again, I will fucking kill you. You'll have to make do with me fucking your corpse. But that would probably get you off too, wouldn't it?" He spat on his face, cock hard between Fulgrim's thighs.<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim shook his head desperately.<br/>
<br/>
"<em>You made me like this.</em>" He shoved his cock against Fulgrim's hole and pushed in dry.<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim would have screamed, but Ferrus's hand choked off any noise. He gasped desperately for breath he couldn't take in, spittle wetting his lips. Ferrus fucked him hard and rough and savage in a way that he should have gotten used to but that still hurt as much as it did every time.<br/>
<br/>
But it wasn't what he should have gotten used to. It wasn't what it was any other time. This was <em>Ferrus</em>, the man he remembered he loved, the source of the ghost memories that were so many of his comforts. He had cried so many times for him. He had dreamed of him. And this. He knew it was only making it harder for him to breathe, but he couldn't stop crying, even as dark spots bloomed in his vision.<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus paused, suddenly-his ass still burned, but Ferrus was no longer thrusting in. He loosened his grip, enough that Fulgrim could desperately pant and gasp for air. "Do you really not want this?" Ferrus asked.<br/>
<br/>
Unable to speak, Fulgrim nodded.<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus barked a short, ugly laugh. "So you only like to be the one raping. Is that right?" He thrust in viciously deep. "You <em>deserve</em> this. Me and so many others-you'll see how it is now."<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim sobbed as Ferrus hit him again, fucking him as hard as before. He knew there was nothing he could say, because the daemon's presence was in the room and he knew that even if he could convince him, the daemon would interfere. He knew that this was all he was to him. Each sob was agony in his throat, but he was as powerless to stop him as he was to stop his rasp of "Ferrus, please..."<br/>
<br/>
And then Ferrus was on him again, beating and kicking him as he fucked him mercilessly. Fulgrim knew he was tearing and could feel the blood hot and thick on his legs-and on his face, and his chest, and his arms. His lips moved in a wordless litany he knew he couldn't voice-<em>Ferrus, no, I love you, please, why are you doing this, don't do this to me, it's me, Ferrus, I love you, please-</em><br/>
<br/>
He loved Ferrus as he had loved Fabius and both of them only wanted to hurt him. They hated him. Love never did anything, he realized as he wept and Ferrus split him open on the floor. It was useless.<br/>
<br/>
When Ferrus came, it was with a rough grunt of satisfaction and heat filling him. He didn't go soft, and Fulgrim knew that was both because that was how the daemon wanted things and because of the stamina their father built into them. Crying did nothing, but he kept crying. He knew what Ferrus would do.<br/>
<br/>
"You made me like this. You wanted more, right? Wanted to make me come for you. You're not coming any time soon, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
Weakly, Fulgrim shook his head. Ferrus hit him in the face again, and then grabbed him and roughly flipped him over as he threw him to the ground. Fulgrim could have tried and dragged himself away, but something in him-it was Ferrus and the daemon had hurt him too. He was hurting him right now.<br/>
<br/>
It was the daemon. He didn't hate him. It was the daemon. Fulgrim repeated this to himself the second time Ferrus fucked him, smashing his face into his own blood. It wasn't meant to be happening to him. Ferrus would not have done this without the daemon's influence.<br/>
<br/>
After Ferrus came the second time, the seed coating him meant that-well, it still hurt. Every thrust burned with pain, but now the friction was enough that it coaxed half an erection out of his body.<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus hated his cock-the daemon's cock. It was the daemon's fault and the daemon had done this to Ferrus too. That was clear. He beat and hit his cock and balls with enhanced force until it was a bruised and swollen mess and any moment blood might flow to his member wouldn't make him hard-all it would do was hurt enough that Fulgrim kept making the wordless keens of pain he was reduced to now. "Try to fuck like that," Ferrus growled, and began to fuck him on all fours. Fulgrim's limbs struggled to hold him up as he wept helplessly, letting his brother take him.<br/>
<br/>
Next he fucked him standing against the wall, pressing his ruined cock into it-Fulgrim was only standing by Ferrus's grip forcing him up, on his own he knew he would collapse in pain. Ferrus had given up on trying to silence him by this point, simply accepting the time Fulgrim's cries formed into 'please' or 'no' or 'why'-he'd told him why, after all.<br/>
<br/>
Four times Ferrus came into him and it did not end. He pulled him down into his lap, hitting his prostate and Fulgrim was wordless from pain, making the high noises of a wounded animal until he could make no more as Ferrus choked him again.<br/>
<br/>
Six. Six was a special number so Fulgrim prayed desperately this would be the last, that this would be the daemon's last choice and there might be a reprieve-if only to keep his toys from breaking. Ferrus had him sit atop him-hands gripping his already-cracked hips to keep his broken body up-and fucked up into him with a special hate on his face. The daemon had raped him like this, Fulgrim realized. "You don't like it like this now, do you? You don't fucking like it like this anymore now?"<br/>
<br/>
It was the sixth time Ferrus came. Or a little after it. Fulgrim knew because the vice grip on his hips and the burning pain as Ferrus grabbed his broken bones suddenly weakened, Ferrus's hands-not his, not really-going limp even in their gauntlets. His beaten body collapsed, Ferrus's cock drawing a last moan of pain as it was pulled from him.<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus did not notice. He stared up in horror at the daemon who was now visible behind him, all four hands clapping together in applause.<br/>
<br/>
"Bravo, bravo. You may be a failure, but that was a truly inspiring performance."<br/>
<br/>
"What," said Ferrus. He stared down at the clone, and then back up. And then. "Why," and then, "He?"<br/>
<br/>
Fulgrim's smile was dazzling. "Fabius was better at recreating me than recreating /you/, darling. You were flawed. That one, though...ah, a son's love truly is a particular delight. Not corrupted in the least, just as I was. He was downright <em>innocent</em> before I took that from him."<br/>
<br/>
"No," Ferrus said. There was true horror in his voice. "<em>No!</em>"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know," Fulgrim said, leaning down as he wrapped his lower set of arms around Ferrus's neck, "that he cried out for <em>you</em>? Again and again. I told him it was his fault. He wept for you when I told him, like a child. After that he only called for you...oh, actually he called for you a few more times. When he was drugged or feverish or Curze had chained him up with bodies long enough or sometimes just from pain. Angron nearly broke the poor thing in two, and there he was, crying 'Ferrus! Ferrus! Ferrus!'"<br/>
<br/>
Ferrus rasped a low, long groan, staring at the body that was crumpled atop his. The other Fulgrim's eyes were open, and he pushed his broken body up as much as he could. "Ferrus," he said, his voice a cracked whisper, "it's all right-"<br/>
<br/>
The original Fulgrim broke Ferrus's neck and his clone wailed as he collapsed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fulgrim/Valdor, bootlicking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of the corrupted Primarchs that were now imprisoned, all of them required firm hands. Firmer, Constantin Valdor believed, than their so-called 'brothers' would give them. He did, of course, work through overseeing their punishment and occasionally through more direct action. Sometimes, though, he needed to work further.</p><p>Fulgrim was a thorn in his side. A thorn in the side of everyone who wanted the rituals to work correctly. Valdor had never liked him, but his aggressive masochism made him the most infuriating of them. Curze might welcome torture sometimes, but his mood changed quickly and his light sensitivity or a sudden flashback could put him in his place. Fulgrim <em>enjoyed </em>punishment. Sensory deprivation was the only thing that worked-it drove the Primarch who had once thought himself worthy of the aquila to fouling himself and desperately begging for any stimulation. But, as always, his brothers would not go far enough.</p><p>He had intended to punish both Fulgrim and Perturabo in forcing Perturabo in a cell with the madman after he had been used. As it was, he had only delivered Fulgrim a gift. The Phoenician lounged on a thin cot with his legs crossed, not even blindfolded.</p><p>He pushed Perturabo forwards into the cell. Even had he not been raped, Perturabo's legs would not have been able to hold him up with his muscles still spasming from the strength of the electric currents they had run through him. He pitched forwards, reaching out to the wall to steady himself but falling to his knees hard nonetheless. His shoulders hunched as he curled in on himself, trying to protect himself from Fulgrim's hungry, eager gaze.</p><p>Fulgrim, as always, overstepped himself. Valdor was aware that the Phoenician enjoyed making sport of his brothers, but he would not have him be comfortable, or allow him to relax this much. "You," he addressed his prisoner. "Clean my boots. That one has dirtied them." This was, in fact, true-when Valdor had returned him to his cell, Perturabo had still dripped with the blood from his whipped back and the seed of his brother primarchs.</p><p>For a moment, anger flared in Fulgrim's violet eyes, but it vanished as his full lips curved in a suggestive smirk. He stepped from the cot with elegant grace, approaching Valdor. Though he went to his knees, he did it with confidence that came from control. "<em>Only</em> your boots?" he asked, eyes-half lidded.</p><p>Valdor kicked him to the ground. He wore power armor and Fulgrim only a loincloth-the strength was enough to send Fulgrim crumpling with a raw cry of want. Valdor's stomach turned in disgust. "If you make that insinuation again, I will confine you to the sensory deprivation tank for a week. You have already displeased me, and I suggest you be careful."</p><p>Fulgrim picked himself up to his knees again, his hair falling across his face. As he lowered his head, Valdor gave a sharp order. "Stop." He did not move, knowing any touch would be pleasurable for the Primarch. Better like this, to attack his mind. "Why would I allow a creature like you to lick my boots?"</p><p>"You want me to beg?"</p><p>"To beg for forgiveness." As he suspected, anger flashed again across the Phoenician's face. Fulgrim liked seduction, but to beg for forgiveness from someone he considered below him rankled his pride. An audience would shame him even more, and Perturabo had slowly turned to face them, still crouching with his hands trying to hide his shame.</p><p>"Phoenician, I am a busy man," Valdor continued. He had paused, knowing Fulgrim would be too angry and unsure to proceed. "I cannot spend hours waiting for you to prove yourself. If you apologize for thinking to touch one above you and prove to me that you can serve outside of your confinement, you will have proved yourself worthy to be in a cell instead of the deprivation tank."</p><p>Fulgrim's pale pink lips pulled back, baring sharp teeth. For a moment, he was silent, and then he lowered his gaze to the floor and spoke with almost convincing humility. "Please forgive my transgression."</p><p>"What transgression?"</p><p>"Please forgive my attempt to seduce you."</p><p>"Your presumption," Valdor corrected, "to touch one above your station."</p><p>That cracked the veneer. A flash of venom in his eyes, lips pulling back in a sneer to reveal fang. "Please forgive my <em>presumption to touch one above my station</em>." His voice was acidic.</p><p>"And you will use my proper title," Valdor added.</p><p>"Captain-General."</p><p>"You are not a lord, Fulgrim. You are a traitor, a prisoner, a failure, and a slave. Your use is that of a slave-perhaps a whore, to your brothers, but I have higher standards. One such as you will call me 'my lord'. And repeat all of your apology, in full."</p><p>A visible tremor of anger went through Fulgrim's body. "Please," he snarled, "forgive my presumption to touch one above my station, my lord."</p><p>"I will forgive your transgression. Now, if you wish to clean my boots, ask me for approval and use my proper title."</p><p>"I will make you beg me for the mercy of death for a long, long time," Fulgrim hissed quietly.</p><p>Valdor waited, only reacting when Fulgrim moved to raise his head. "Do not try to look me in the eye, vermin. <em>That </em>will have you punished severely."</p><p>Another tremor of rage. "May I," Fulgrim said slowly, in a voice of pure venom, "lick your boots clean, my lord?"</p><p>Valdor nodded, and Fulgrim spat on his boot. Valdor's face darkened, and he felt a moment of appreciation when Fulgrim tensed in apprehension, unsure if he would have the nightmare of deprivation or the pleasure of a strike.</p><p>Valdor did neither. The Phoenician bent his head and pressed his lips to the auramite of Valdor's boot, spreading his legs to get a better position. His cock was hard and wanting.</p><p>"You enjoy being put in your proper place," Valdor said. He saw the muscles of Fulgrim's back tense.</p><p>His first licks, though Valdor could not feel them, were meant to seduce, the way he licked a cock. "You are not <em>li</em><em>cking</em> my boots. You are <em>cleaning</em> them, serving your betters as a failure like you should."</p><p>Fulgrim trembled in rage, but he was, as always, exacting. He lapped at the auramite thoroughly, likely enjoying it-he would certainly enjoy the foul tastes. Perhaps he meant to lose himself in the work.</p><p>"Now dry it. Your hair will be your rag."</p><p>Fulgrim's shoulders tensed. Any memory of him willingly degrading himself as taboo was gone with Valdor's voice, and his beauty was now on the line too. Yet he bent his head, took his silky hair into his hands, and dragged it across his own saliva. The anger on his face gave Valdor another pleasant sense of satisfaction.</p><p>"Give this treatment to my other boot as well."</p><p>Valdor could see the desire to murder him in every line of the Phoenician's body, but he did as he was told.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Magnus/loyalists, torture gangbang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnus the Red lay on his stomach on a table of gold stripped to the skin, his arms and legs bound in chains that blazed with seals of ancient power. At first, it had bound him-similar to the bindings of daemons he was familiar with, but on a level as far above from them as the Emperor was to mortals. Then, some catalyst had struck, something that had forced him into this bizarre unfamiliar scenario. Where once his fleshly form had been transcended, he now was as mortal as he ever was-<em>more </em>mortal, in fact. His strength and stamina were drained, and even the call of the Warp that had once been an essential part of his being was dim and muffled and faraway. He had not been able to bend the adamantium of his cell door to move, not even to change his face consciously.</p><p>It was what would be terrifying. But Magnus did not know fear, and what he did know was anger. How <em>dare</em> they? How dare his brothers throw him in a cell like a common prisoner? How dare they take away his very nature? How <em>dare</em> they bare him to them and humiliate him like this?!</p><p>"Is this really what you have become?!" he demanded, looking from brother to brother. "Is this how far you have sunk? You torture your own brother?" Vulkan and Guilliman did not, could not meet his eyes. Nor could Jaghatai. Jaghatai, who had told him he wished to save him-but it seemed all of his brothers who kept sworn to their father sought to show themselves as hypocrites, no matter how much he had once thought of them. Sanguinius might have been worse-his eyes were sorrowful, sympathetic, almost seeming on the verge of tears, his beautiful face etched with pain. Dorn looked as he ever did, his expression stony and unreadable as he looked down on Magnus with no familiarity. Corax glared at him, and Lion's eyes were icy cold, almost disgusted. Codes of honor held nothing for them, then.</p><p>Russ. Russ, he knew why he had done this, even as he once had known he regretted this. He would not be surprised if the brute had suggested this. His aura was...so hard to read, a blur. He would have to focus, and he felt another surge of fury at this violation, at being made as weak as an untrained human.</p><p>Corax struck him across the face, and it hurt, hard enough to jar the bone of his cheek. His hand was clad in the metal gauntlet of his artificer armor, as all of his brothers were, and the ache remained, pulsing low in his cheek. "You have no right to pass judgement on us, foul traitor. This is nothing to what you and your ilk have done. This is your just punishment. It's what you <em>deserve."</em></p><p>Once, Magnus would have believed that. But he had seen much and become much more since then, and even if he was still chained to his body he remembered many things. So he pulled back his lips to bare his teeth in a smile, though it hurt him. "And you, Corvus? What is it that you deserve?"</p><p>Corax's punch shattered the bones of Magnus's nose, the force sending brilliant pain bursting across his mind. But that was not what stirred him to fear.</p><p>That was the sight of his brothers, even as Magnus had spoken, beginning to reach down and unfasten the parts of their armor that served as codpieces.</p><p>Magnus was no stranger to sex. He knew it well with his sons and even a few mortals, and his brothers. Even a few of his brothers at the table now. He was aware of rape in war, to dominate and to torture, and had grown far more aware since joining Horus's forces. But he held his sons to higher standards and he knew himself that no one would dare use such a thing against a son of the Emperor and that no one <em>could </em>against a psyker of Magnus's might. The fear that built within him was unfamiliar and humiliating even as it stirred him to greater fury, and the twisted mixture of emotions only intensified when the brother who bared himself and moved behind him, jerking his own cock, was Russ.</p><p>"How dare you?!" he shouted. "How <em>dare</em> you? And you say you are better than us?!"</p><p>Russ grabbed his hip, his calloused fingers groping the flesh of Magnus's bare buttock roughly as Magnus struggled furiously against the enchanted chains. "Were you not paying attention to what your friends were doing, brother? After what they've gotten up to, this is nothing. Or did you get into a little of that yourself? I've heard it said witches fuck daemons to get their powers. Was that what you did, spread your legs for the hordes of the Warp?"</p><p>Magnus could at least turn around him to spit at Russ, even more furious when he saw that he <em>smiled. </em>"You will know more of that than any sorcerer when I cast you into the Warp screaming!"</p><p>The Khan spoke over him out of his field of vision. "Russ, be <em>quiet</em>." His voice simmered with anger. "Enough humiliation. Whatever you believe, this is a ritual, not a punishment.</p><p>Magnus laughed bitterly even as Russ groped him as if he was some serving maid of the Wolf King's, turning around to face his former friend. "Yes. Hypocritical of <em>you </em>to punish me for betrayal. Horus would be proud." His voice was venomous and snide, with no trace of sorrow-Magnus would not give them the satifaction of tears, not even for the man who had tried to redeem him, tried to believe in him, and now sought only that his brothers not insult him when they raped him.</p><p>The Khan's face was pained, and his voice was tired and heavy. "Things like this happen in wars, brother. I am sorry."<br/><br/>"Not sorry enough not to torture and rape your brother. Tell me, Jaghatai, what makes you any better than what Fulgrim has become? Than Konrad Curze?"</p><p>"Enough. Open your mouth."</p><p>The Khan's calloused hand reached out for him, and Magnus twisted his head away. "Do not touch me!"</p><p>"Stop playing around," Russ said, wetting his fingers in something Magnus could not see, "and just shove your cock in his mouth." Magnus heard from his blind spot the noise of metal on metal, but jerked his head around only to have the Lion's dagger scratch his cheekbone.</p><p>"Stop squirming," Lion told him.</p><p>The Khan grabbed Lion's wrist. "<em>No</em>." His other hand took Magnus's jaw firmly, holding on even as he yanked his head away. Two of Russ's thick fingers entered him roughly from behind, coated thinly in oil they smeared into him as they stretched him only perfunctorily. Uncomfortable, but not enough that Magnus would honor him with a reaction. It was more worrying, especially when he removed them to slick his cock in the same oil. Magnus had fucked his brothers before, if not Russ, and he knew they were large enough that even among each other preparation should be considered. The Khan's fingers dug into his jaw, forcing his mouth open.</p><p>This was the first time Magnus had seen him. Jaghatai had made it known, through means subtle and overt, that he was uncomfortable with the idea of a sexual relationship with his brothers. Magnus had wanted him at times, and seen signals in his aura of a similar want that were always overwhelmed with doubt. All of <em>that </em>was useless now, of course.</p><p>"Don't make this worse than it has to be," Jaghatai said. Through the gauntlet Magnus could feel his hand tremble infinitesimally. "If you bite me, I am going to have to hurt you."</p><p>"Coward," Magnus told him. The Khan shoved himself into his mouth, and he did not bite down.</p><p>"Fucking finally," said Russ, and thrust in.</p><p>The entry was as brutal as anything Russ ever did, forcing himself in to the hilt with Magnus only prepared enough that raping him caused the barbarian no discomfort. The force smashed his bruised, bleeding face into Jaghatai's pubic bone, and the pain was enough that Magnus could almost be thankful his mouth was occupied enough that it distorted the low noise he made.</p><p>Russ gave a deep, guttural growl as he pulled out and set a viciously fast pace, hard plates of his armor slamming against him again and again with painful force. "Feels good," he rumbled. "Guess you weren't-"</p><p>"Enough." Vulkan said. His voice was rough. "The Khan is right. Give him some dignity."</p><p>In response, Russ gave a particularly hard thrust, one that slammed into his prostate and forced an even more humiliating noise out around Jaghatai's half-hard cock as the pain and pleasure flashed through him. Lion was fully hard, a hand holding his cock casually besides Magnus, and a long-fingered hand stroked the muscles of his back on his blind side. Corax? Sanguinius?</p><p>"It's not enough." Guilliman studied Magnus's humiliation as if it was a decree for him to read. His brow was lined. "All of us must take part. Two at a time...it's not efficient enough."</p><p>"So what do you propose?" Russ grunted. "We make more holes?" Magnus tried to pull away as best as he could.</p><p>"We don't have to," Vulkan said, and reached out one hand.</p><p>Magnus convulsed again, another strangled noise making its way out around the Khan's member as he tried to pull away at the new violation of his brother's hard, callused hand on his cock while Russ continued to assault him. Dorn's hard hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him in place. "Stay still," the Praetorian demanded.</p><p>"Magnus, please," Vulkan said. "This does not have to be worse."</p><p>The Khan's grip on his skull tightened and he forced his cock into his throat, the discomfort distracting Magnus before he could try to attack his brother.</p><p>"He takes that well," the Lion said with an infuriating smirk. "Experience, I'd say." Russ laughed again.</p><p>"Enough." The Khan's jaw was tightly clenched as he forced his cock against the back of Magnus's throat. Russ's movement hadn't stopped, a brutal repetitive thrusting that forced Magnus's head to bob on it as spit ran down his chin in a far from dignified manner from how his lips were stretched around it. Russ's thrusts, painful as they were, hit home far too well, and his cock was half-hard as Vulkan's palm rubbed against it. </p><p>Reflex and anger alike called Magnus to bite down on the intruder in his mouth. The Khan seemed to anticipate it, shaking his head as Vulkan's rough fingers wraped around his cock. "No," he whispered. <em>Whispered. </em>As if he was an ally trying to help Magnus, instead of having betrayed him and having <em>raped him.</em></p><p>Magnus savagely bit down. The taste of flesh and blood was unfamiliar. This was nothing that would have ever entered his mind before now.</p><p>The Khan released him and pulled back. Magnus barely had time to free his spit-slick lips and gasp for air before a dagger stabbed into the muscle of his shoulder. Russ grabbed his other side, long nails clawing into his other shoulder as he plunged into his ass again and hit Magnus with a furious backhand to the blind side. He grunted in pain, escalating to something sharper and strangled when Lion or Corax-it was one of them, he wasn't sure which one but one of them-twisted the knife. Vulkan's fingers squeezed his cock, and Magnus gasped for breath, spittle trickling out of his mouth. For a moment the world was a shadowy sliver.</p><p>"Magnus," came Vulkan's deep, rumbling bass. "We don't want to hurt you."</p><p>He burst into incredulous, shaky laughter at that. "You <em>don't want to-</em>"</p><p>"That's not going to help," Russ said, breath hot on Magnus's ear. "Let me put it this way." The hand that had been grabbing his shoulder yanked his hair, pulling him back with Russ. "If you're not going to take it, nice ones like Khan and Vulkan will just gag your mouth open for whoever wants it. The rest of us? We'll fuck your eye-hole. Wasn't knowledge you sold it for really, was it? Way your cunt feels-" he slapped Magnus's buttock- "I'd wager it was so you could take wight cock like a proper witch. Didn't even take a stretching before your whore's cunt started to milk me, eh? Ah, don't look at me like that. He's the one who stopped your 'playing nice', anyhow."</p><p>Magnus howled in incoherent fury, rage and despair taking any hope of his usual eloquence from him. "Fuck you, you shit-eating sons of-" Anything else he could have said was cut off, as Corax moved in from his blind side briefly to shove a spider gag in his open mouth that distorted it, forcing it open.</p><p>Magnus gave another wordless roar, his attempt to struggle free foiled by someone grabbing another fistful of his hair and yanking painfully. Russ growled a laugh as he struggled, pumping deep inside of his brother.</p><p>"There." Corax's pale body was in view for the moment, pulling on his hair as he lined his hard cock up with Magnus's empty socket. Magnus struggled desperately against his chains and his brothers' hands.  Another hand-whose?-dug nails into the still-open knife wound and he jerked briefly in pain. He wanted to speak, to throw more venom at his brothers or even to protest at what they were doing to him, but it was twisted into a wordless groan and a dribble of spit by the gag.</p><p>All he could see was Khan and Corax, not even their faces but their hips and thighs. When Corax rutted the head of his cock against Magnus's socket, the violation had him struggling again against his chains even without physical discomfort. His hiss as fingers dug into the wound on his back again was distorted by the gag and then stifled as Jaghatai thrust into his mouth again from the other side and he was in darkness, unable to see anything save for his brothers' balls and thighs. Russ was moving harder-with his mouth forced open, Magnus could not stifle his groan and he felt the salt of the Khan's precome as his brother gave a low exhale at the vibration-breathing in hard pants, his broad palm smacking Magnus's buttock again. Vulkan's hand on his cock was slower than both of his brothers, almost gentle. In the mess of stimulation of all of his senses, he felt Vulkan's breath burning against the back of his neck, heard him whisper, "I am sorry for this, Magnus."</p><p>Apologies did nothing. A gentle touch forcing him into hardness with the choking scent of the Khan's sweat and the plastic of Corax's laboratories and armor overpowering him did nothing. Magnus could do nothing. Even had his pride not made the idea of actively sucking Jaghatai's cock to get it over with repellent, the gag forced him into inaction.  All he could do was lie there and have his brothers ravage him at their own paces, watch Corax's hand wrap around his cock, masturbating himself while rutting against Magnus's socket.</p><p>He closed his good eye, but it couldn't stop the noises they made, or Vulkan's murmured apologies, or worst of all Russ's harsh panting and growled epithets. The Wolf King's words-"low-down, conniving whore bitch-" hitched only briefly before his nails bit in again as he drove himself further in than even before, a pain Magnus wished desperately was only a deep aching pain instead of making his traitorous cock, already hard in Vulkan's rough hand, jolt and drip. With a snarling growl, the heat of the Wolf King's seed filled him.</p><p>When Magnus felt the grotesque, senseless <em>swell </em>of Russ's cock in him, he seized again, struggling against his captors and bonds. Vulkan's free hand stroked his thigh with the repetitive gentleness one might use to try and soothe a wild animal.</p><p>"If you've finished," Guilliman said as the hawk and the crow fucked Magnus's face, "then pull out. This shouldn't go on any longer than neccessary."</p><p>"I can't," Russ said.</p><p>"I'm sorry?" Magnus might have found the weary confusion in Guilliman's voice humorous in any other situation.</p><p>"He's a dog," the Lion said.</p><p>The Khan stopped his movement, though Corvax continued to rut against him and Vulkan kept up his slow strokes and-no. No. He tried to focus on the stretch and burn in his ass because without the discomfort of being fucked to distract him. "What."</p><p>"He's..." Sanguinius' voice was unsteady. Magnus could catch a glimpse of him, face pale before he shook his head and closed his eyes to the violation going on before him. "Canids have knots. Swellings at the base of their penises, to keep the semen inside. For breeding."</p><p>The Khan thrust savagely into the back of his throat again, resuming his pace. The light-headedness as he was forced to painfully breathe through his broken nose only made things worse-there was some pain, but not the monopolizing pleasure-pain of what Russ had done, and it was far too hard to draw his attention from the methodical movement of Vulkan's hand, his thumb rubbing the sack of Magnus's balls, not like any of his sons but still an act that could have been consensual and simply brought <em>pleasure.</em></p><p>"I'll just have to stay here for a bit," Russ said. "Should be a few minutes. Not much more."</p><p>"And it will not harm him?" Vulkan asked, his thumb moving up with the rest of his fist and flicking across his dripping cockhead. Magnus couldn't stifle an awful, shameful keen that had a quick intake of breath from the Khan and Russ <em>snickering</em>.</p><p>"He'll be fine," Russ said. "More than fine, from that noise. Wish I had a better view of his cock, but I'll be lucky enough to still be in here when he goes off."</p><p>"Russ." Dorn said sternly.</p><p>"You'll get your turn too. Look, we're going to be fucking him one way or the other. Why make ourselves miserable about it?"</p><p>"I'm sorry," Vulkan told him again, gently. "This has to happen." His thumb ran again over the head of Magnus's cock and the gentle slowness was almost torturous when paired with the rough use of his mouth, the pleasure slowly building as Magnus drooled around the Khan and fought his body's reflex to arc into the touch.</p><p>He did come while Russ was still deflating inside of him, hard and pushing against his prostate and only one of the humiliations of the awful pleasure amid the way he gasped and reflexively moaned into the Khan and the semen that fouled the floor. "Valdrmani's <em>tits</em>," the Great Wolf gasped, "they were right about witches robbing men of their seed. Tight as a virgin and milks me like a whore. I should have fucked him sooner!"</p><p>Magnus hated him. Magnus hated him with a consuming burning hatred that words could not do justice to, that right then won out over even the white-hot unwanted pleasure. He hated Corax and he hated their onlooking brothers and he hated himself and he hated Vulkan's gentle, "There you go. It's done now. I'm sorry." But more than anything he wanted to see Leman Russ dead and humiliated as he was himself now.</p><p>Even as he finished spilling himself, the Khan followed him-he was at the deepest point of his thrust and Magnus was spared at least being forced to taste his seed as it flooded down his throat and into his gullet, choking and sticky and vile. "You should pull out," Russ said. He'd rested his elbows on the table around Magnus. "Come on his face."</p><p>The Khan did not. Perhaps that should have been some sort of relief. It was not. He wondered if he would choke. He wanted to spit it out.</p><p>The Khan pulled out in a swift movement and stepped back, Magnus's throat convulsing involuntarily at the withdrawal, and he felt-he'd thought he wouldn't have to taste it, he thought that would be perhaps one small mercy, but he retched up his brother's semen.</p><p>"All right, that's three down, we need five more," Guilliman said as the strings of seed fell down Magnus's chin. With the Khan no longer blocking his vision, he could see Corax's hand working around his cock, his eyes shut. He was able to pretend that he wasn't there. Behind them, Sanguinius's eyes were closed as well, lips moving silently. Magnus made a garbled attempt at a thorough curse through his gag, which Guilliman ignored. "Dorn, I think you said you would take the non-sexual part? Then I'll handle his mouth." His brother's voice was infuriatingly calm, his hand bringing himself to half-hardness. "Lion, you'll try his hair. Once Russ is done Sanguinius will take him, and then we'll see about a second round."</p><p>Magnus despised Guilliman with a fury that outstripped even that he held for Russ. The primarch pushed himself into Magnus's mouth, the weight and heat of him on his tongue much more notable than it had been with the Khan as he used him more shallowly than the Khan had, causing less pain but making him far more aware of the intruder in his mouth.. Perhaps Jaghatai had not been much of a friend after all. He felt Lion's grip on his hair, and heard the noise of the knight spitting into his palm.</p><p>The Lion's yanks on his hair were uncomfortable, but the humiliation of feeling him coat it with his own spittle and wrap it around his cock was much, much worse, filling Magnus with a helpless fury. The Lion was using him as a sexual aid, as a toy, as if he was nothing and there was nothing that he could do.</p><p><br/>The actual pain came with the crack of a whip that genuinely cut into his skin, a sharp blaze of pain coming with it as it sliced through. The Lion held him immobile and Guilliman sharply thrust into his throat. The whip struck his lower back, below where Russ had once broken it-near enough that Russ would have to watch out. He gurgled his ardent hope that it would get him and felt Guilliman <em>throb</em> in response, his grip on his jaw tightening. </p><p>"A little low," Russ said, and Magnus's blood boiled with rage. "I hit him there-"</p><p>"I'm aware." The whip came down again, this time on his calves. Carefully avoiding Russ. Magnus willed it to go astray. "Sometimes it is best to prepare things-once the pain becomes bearable, simply increase to a higher level of pain. And I worry about what might happen with all of you clustered there." The backs of his knees. The whip cut deep, to the point a part of him feared tendon damage if Dorn went too far and then realized how ridiculous that was.</p><p>"And you know this <em>how</em>?" Vulkan asked. Magnus felt Corax's cock dripping precome into the empty skin where his eye had been and suppressed a shudder even as his half-thrusts smeared it, pushed it into his skin.</p><p>"Irrelevant." Another strike of the whip.</p><p>"We are literally all naked, watching each other have sex," Guilliman said. "If we can talk about Russ's...knot..." The man in question laughed filthily. "We can discuss-" Guilliman's breath hitched just slightly. "Rogal's preferences."</p><p>"It's not a secret," Russ pointed out. "You use a damned <em>pain glove</em>. I'll almost be out of here and then you can...hmm. Sanguinius, you all right?"</p><p>"I am trying to get myself...ready. I'm sorry. We were close."</p><p>Russ grunted. "Don't worry about it."</p><p>Magnus made a wordless noise of anger. They were speaking this casually while Lion and Guilliman yanked his head around between them to serve them and Corvus's precome was smeared on his cheek now and Russ was still buried deep in him. He wanted them dead. All of them dead.</p><p>Corax's breath hitched and for an awful moment Magnus felt his cock trembling against his face, and then he came as Dorn's whip slammed down again, overlapping with the previous marks. He made a noise, not quite a scream or a groan around Guilliman-he would <em>not</em> give him the satisfaction of his pain-and he enjoyed the noises, he could feel it, damn him, he could TASTE it. He bit down against the gag, struggled to break it as Lion yanked his hair back. He could feel Lion's heat, the spit dripping into his scalp as Corax's seed dripped down his cheek. Corax had left at some point. When had he left?</p><p>His snarl of fury was twisted by the gag holding his jaw in place and the cock in his mouth into a meaningless noise that only pleasured Guilliman-futile, like everything else. He had nothing, now, his power chained by rituals and wards and taken away from him like so much else. For a moment a wave of despair threatened to again overwhelm his fury at the violation and his own helplessness—</p><p>And then the whip struck where Russ had broken his spine and Magnus could not stop himself from screaming. It was white-hot agony, briefly blotting out everything else-the rest was enough that it all came back as one horrible wall of sensation. The whip came down again-somewhere else, so it was just painful and not <em>that</em>-and Lion's nails dug into his scalp. His head had slumped involuntarily, though Lion shoved it back up again  to fuck against.</p><p>"I think," Guilliman said, voice shaking, "that a few more like that would work. Two or three."</p><p>Magnus could not feel fear. He steeled himself. </p><p>Then Dorn brought the whip down again, this time on top of the previous mark and he wailed around Guilliman. His brother was grimacing, disgusted by how much pleasure could be taken from someone screaming in pain. And such pain. Magnus realized his body was trembling, and he did not know if it was from the seals that made him so disgustingly weak or simply from how it aggravated where he had been broken.</p><p>Guilliman was thrusting into his mouth hard and the pain occupied him so much he was surprised by the disgusting <em>squelch</em> when Russ pulled out. "Ready, Angel?" he asked, and the casual friendliness in his tone almost made Magnus's anger overpower how furious he was. </p><p>"Yes...Yes." Something about Sanguinius's voice sounded wrong, but before Magnus could figure out what it was the whip came down on the same wound again. At some point his eye had begun watering in pain. Sanguinius entered him without much pain, only more of Russ's seed being dislodged to run down his legs. But it was worse, because Magnus knew the warmth and length of his cock in him. They had done this before. He had let this happen before. He had lay in bed with Sanguinius before, with love and joy and nothing like this. Magnus would not weep, not here and not now, but his throat hitched in a way it should not have and Guilliman let out a broken breath and a "I'm sorry," and he spilled onto his tongue.</p><p>The Khan had given him the mercy of not tasting it but Guilliman did not only plaster himself, thick and salty, all over Magnus's tongue. He pulled out and the rest stained Magnus's chin and mouth, dripping down to the polished golden surface of the table. Sanguinius was moving behind him much slower than Russ but there was an awful wet sound of Russ's semen in him moving with each thrust and oozing out around his brother.</p><p>With no one in his mouth and Dorn finished there was only Lion jerking himself on his hair and Sanguinius's pace steadily increasing. Why was this worse? How could his brothers call him a traitor now when Sanguinius was raping him, growing rougher than he used to but not as rough as Russ? Why were tears threatening worse now?</p><p>And then nails dug into the whip marks, into the ones at the break and Magnus screamed in agony, Lion holding his head in place. Lion, he told himself, it was Lion, but then he felt how they cut into him and the force and he knew that Sanguinius was using them as an anchor. He was digging his claws into Magnus's damaged muscle to hold him so he could fuck him harder.</p><p>"WHY!?" Magnus screamed. That, at least, came out around the gag.</p><p>Vulkan reached out before Dorn held him back. "Sanguinius? What are you doing?"</p><p>"Magnus will be fine," Lion said, breathing faster. Sanguinius was driving into him now as hard, if not harder, than Russ. "He's a <em>Primarch</em>." His pace was increasing too, almost frenzied. Magnus could feel the precome he smeared in his hair and Sanguinius's claws sank in and pulled back and-</p><p>For a long moment, Magnus was only aware of pain. He realized as the movement stopped that Sanguinius had ripped through the meat of his back, clawing him apart. Lion had spent himself and moved away, somewhere he couldn't see. Sanguinius was nearly doubled over him and pounding into him, each thrust jarring bones as he slammed into the raw meat of his thighs and his already-bruised entrance.</p><p>"Don't interfere." The voice was Dorn's. "We need to be rough with him."</p><p>Sanguinius sank his teeth into his shoulder, breaking skin and drawing blood. It hurt but it didn't hurt on the same level as the claws in his back, drawing back and clawing at the broken spot again and Magnus actually sobbed, body weakly spasming. In front of his brothers he didn't want to do this but the pain was all-consuming and-</p><p>Sanguinius's other hand closed around his throat and his teeth sunk deeper. He squeezed. Magnus could go without air for hours if need be but breathing was already hard enough with his nose broken. Each savage thrust from Sanguinius left him bleeding and violated and his back was on fire and his claws were making him try to scream(even worse, no, he couldn't scream) and his teeth were sinking deeper. Magnus couldn't stop the reflex to make some sort of noise, to breathe, and it only made things so much worse. Was he losing air? He was losing air.</p><p>"Let go," someone said. Guilliman. "That's dangerous."</p><p>Sanguinius squeezed tighter and Magnus's vision blurred, flickered, twisted. He had to hold his breath but his body refused to obey him, only reflexively struggling to scream and losing air. He could feel someone grab Sanguinius's arm and then Sanguinius released where he bit him and-</p><p>And his throat was released.</p><p>Magnus wheezed for breath, gasping as he recovered and gauged the situation. Dorn had grabbed Sanguinius, and he felt the Angel pull out of him roughly. His buttocks and thighs felt like one amorphous, bleeding nexus of pain that pulsated with each beat of his hearts.</p><p>Sanguinius was outnumbered and though he was strong, there were enough of them that they could bring him down. The Khan took a blow from a flailing wing as he and Vulkan dragged Sanguinius out of the room, the Angel twisting and writhing.</p><p>"Does anyone else know what just happened to Sanguinius?" Guilliman asked. His voice cracked slightly.</p><p>Russ spoke. "I know that we only got seven times."</p><p>The rush of shame that Magnus felt that he had felt fear was overwhelmed by his rush of terror.</p><p>"Are you sure?" Lion asked.</p><p>"And are you going to have all this go to nothing? If it takes coming in him again to seal the ritual, then I'm going to do it. Whatever it takes to bring Father back.  To be fair, he's already busted up enough it probably won't hurt him. Might even have to go all the way and pull out if I want to do that."</p><p>That didn't even make <em>sense</em> but he was gagged and could not argue ritual semantics of a ritual he didn't even know. What he could do was feel furious and ashamed of how his body involuntarily shook and force back the tears that sought to come. </p><p>"That could be dangerous." Corax said.</p><p>"It will heal," Guilliman said. "Even with the enchantments slowing down his healing, he'll be recovered in a few days."</p><p>The Wolf King moved behind him and took him again. Magnus hated the gag, he hated that it forced his mouth open and made him unable to stifle the shameful groans of pain he made, he hated Russ. He was raw and bloody and everything hurt. Russ moved as roughly as before in him, but easier even as every thrust pushed at already-pained tissue.</p><p>He would not cry in front of Russ. He would not cry in front of Russ. He would not cry in front of Russ.</p><p>Magnus was not sure how long it took. He refused to weep. Russ, as he said, pulled out his knot and Magnus half-screamed as he ripped his flesh apart. He did not weep, and there was that at least. His slumped body trembled weakly on the table, helpless.</p><p>"There," Russ said, voice gruff. "It's done."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some notes re: events behind the scenes, because I had a lot figured out but tight POV sure is a thing and also this chapter is huge. (Puns not intended.)<br/>Sanguinius's little upset was mostly his fault this time. Sanguinius and the Blood Angels having berserk fury issues is an established thing even before the actual duel, and probably however the duel turned out in porn universe messed with his control over it a little. Sanguinius then tried to focus on being angry and making himself want to hurt something so he could properly fucktorture a friend who was also his brother.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Vulkan/Curze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You'll rape me, or I'll rape your sons."</p><p><br/>This was one of Curze's favorite games. Sometimes he had variations on it, and so much of the time he was lying. But sometimes he told the truth.</p><p><br/>Vulkan wanted to spare them what he could. Was it making him like Curze to want to take this moment to have some control, again? He wrapped his hand around Curze's throat and the madman's lips parted, desperate hunger on his face.</p><p><br/>Vulkan hated himself as he thrust roughly in, knowing it was what Curze wanted. It was lucky that this time Curze didn't play his game where he screamed and wept-or was it a game? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was Curze's puppet, made to perform the most base, disgusting desires he had, ones Vulkan did not even want to know-much less enact.</p><p><br/>He fucked him and hated his own surrender.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Vulkan/Curze, The Emperor Made Them Do It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is set in a different porn AU than the other porn AUs, with the premise being that Emps wins the Horus Heresy and all the traitor primarchs conveniently live to be his sexy war prizes/golden throne batteries.</p><p>Also, wow! This time the pairing is, uh...vaguely...romantic? Kind of? More romantic than some of these others, anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Konrad Curze was on his knees, the tangles of his lank hair falling over his gaunt face. He seemed even more drained of color against the rich gold of the throne he knelt in front of and against his father's vibrant skin. The simple white robe the Emperor wore did not alleviate the contrast-Curze was stripped naked as Vulkan had never seen him before, seeming shrunken and emaciated next to him.</p><p>Vulkan could not keep his eyes from going to Curze-he knew that with the victory, the Emperor had chosen to make a show of power, but this was closer to it than Vulkan had been before and the dark history between them made it even more unsettling. He turned to his father instead. "Why have you called me here?"</p><p>"Vulkan," the Emperor said. His voice was deep, resonant, and impossible to ignore or disobey. "Come here. I know your brother has mistreated you." Curze made a harsh creaking noise that might have been a laugh.</p><p>Vulkan took a step forwards. "He has."</p><p>"What did he do to you?"</p><p>Vulkan grimaced. "He trapped me and he tortured me, in many ways. Many others, too, to affect me." Anger rose in him at the memories.</p><p>The Emperor moved his leg and pushed Curze forwards, causing the Night Haunter to half-turn towards Vulkan. The Emperor's eye contact with him made him unable to turn his gaze from the golden power of his father's eyes to Curze's face.</p><p>"Show me."</p><p>Curze burst into hysterical laughter. His face was twisted in a deranged look of glee that Vulkan knew too well. The Emperor kicked him, which did nothing to stop the peals of twisted laughter from ringing out through the room.</p><p>Vulkan's hearing was perfect, and he could not have misheard. Still he asked "What?"</p><p>The Emperor grabbed Curze's tangled hair in his fist. "<em>Silence.</em>" Curze bared his teeth, but his laughter died down to chuckles and then silence, though the leer on his face remained. "Show me," the Emperor said, "how Curze hurt you."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Your own legion says this. Curze is here. Do to him what he did to you." Curze's shoulders shook as he burst into another fit of laughter.</p><p>The Emperor looked down at him. "I told you to remain silent."</p><p>Curze screamed. It was a noise more like a wounded animal than any of the screams he would play to announce his coming, raw and feral. His body bent backwards, seizing as he fell to the ground, shrieking. His legs jerked as if trying to run away, scratching against the palace floor. </p><p>It could be one of his seizures, Vulkan told himself. It... "Father. Did...are you doing this to him?"</p><p>"I am communicating with him." Curze's spasms came to a sudden, shuttering stop and he gasped for breath, sunken chest rising and falling. "Disciplining him."</p><p>Vulkan looked down, not knowing what to feel.</p><p>"Discipline," Curze breathed. His lips were peeled in something that might have been a smile on another face as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "He is torturing me, brother, for all of his sweet words. He is no different from me, no different from <em>anyone</em>. So much time you spend playing the paragon, but the father you were so very loyal to is just another monster."</p><p>"The Emperor is nothing like you!"</p><p>"No. I spoke wrong." There was an awful gleam in Curze's eyes. "It's not torture he wants, not for me, not now. He's done it enough times, but now he thinks he can make a lesson out of it." Curze gestured to his bare, flaccid genitals, and Vulkan felt a rush of revulsion. "The Emperor is a backalley brute of a rapist no better than the ones you'd find on Nostramo and he wants you to fuck me hard-" He screamed again, body going rigid.</p><p>Vulkan's stomach twisted in an awful, unfamiliar nausea. "Father?"</p><p>He wanted him to reassure him that this was not necessary. That he only meant for Vulkan to beat his brother. He did not, could not believe it. But his father said, "Did he rape you?"</p><p>Vulkan did not respond.</p><p>Curze coughed violently and grinned. "Too ashamed, aren't you? I had Vulkan a hundred times when he was in my dungeons. I fucked him raw and bleeding. I made him moan and scream and weep for me. I made him-"</p><p>Vulkan punched Curze in the face and felt bone shatter under his gauntlets. Curze grinned widely as he fell back to the floor from the impact, blood running from his open nose.</p><p>"I am sorry for you," the Emperor said. "Silence him."</p><p>Vulkan hoped desperately that did not mean what he thought it meant. "Should I break his jaw?"</p><p>"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Stop his mouth."</p><p>Curze had broken his jaw, not his nose. Forced his mouth into an open scream and fucked him like that, every thrust causing agonizing pain. Curze was laughing again now, his mouth a forest of sharp teeth.</p><p>"He might bite." Vulkan had bitten Curze, of course. That was why he had broken his jaw, but he would never stop fighting back. Not until...when Curze had brought in others, he had...</p><p>"He will not." The Emperor's complete assurance meant that Vulkan could not stop himself from asking.</p><p>"Father. Did...did you...was he telling the truth?"</p><p>"Think of what he has done. He deserves it. Yes, I have."</p><p>If Vulkan thought about what Curze had done, how low he had brought him, he could want to hurt him. Not like this. Not like this. Even at his most furious he had only wanted to kill him, even if it had been a painful death it was not <em>this</em>, he was not a monster- "Please, father. No one deserves this."</p><p>"Do you think you were the only one?" His father's eyes were like suns, but without any warmth. "Konrad Curze is a monster. After all your suffering, you deserve to let him know what it feels like."</p><p>"Father..."</p><p>"Vulkan. Take your codpiece off and fuck his mouth."</p><p>As he removed it, Curze's laughter resumed. "Of course," Curze said. "Of course! All anyone has to do to make Vulkan get rid of his morals is have our dear, dear father just <em>ask. </em>Or maybe you wanted to do this? You came so many times when I took you in my hand. Did I make you want it, or was I just giving you what you always craved?"</p><p>Vulkan shoved his cock into Curze's mouth. Curze did not bite down.</p><p>He wasn't hard-he could not be less hard-and his brother, while he avoided his teeth, did nothing to suck. Warmth and wetness were nothing with the creature in front of him and the nausea in his stomach. This could be all, he told himself. This could be all.</p><p>"What did he do to you?" the Emperor asked. "An eye for an eye."</p><p>"Please, father." He was a prisoner and Vulkan was no rapist. Vulkan was no rapist.</p><p>"Do you want him not to be punished? No one can see he pays for his crimes better than you. You know he deserves this."</p><p>Vulkan closed his eyes. He did not want to see what it looked like as he fucked Curze's mouth.</p><p>"A tooth for a tooth," the Emperor said, his voice sad. "Curze would not have been gentle to you."</p><p>Vulkan moved harder, rougher, deeper, until his armor plates clashed against Curze's face. He felt how they damaged muscle and bone, a tightening of the muscles of Curze's throat. He did not gag, and Vulkan knew too well this was because none of them had been made to have gag reflexes.</p><p>He hated that remembering those horrors made this <em>better</em>. Made it easier to endure. He held Curze in place by his shoulder, keeping up a ruthless pace even with the crush of tissue against him. He could feel the sharp bones of Curze's shoulder, an infinitesmal tremor. He had managed to get himself half-hard, but he was soft again at that.</p><p>He deserved it, he reminded himself. But even if he did, Vulkan was better than he was. Killing was one thing. Torture was another. Rape-rape was something beyond the pale, even if not to your own <em>brother...</em></p><p>"Father. I can't." His voice broke. Curze gurgled. The noise vibrated against him, but Vulkan was soft in his mouth. "I'm not like him."</p><p>"That is your strength." That was an acknowledgement and Vulkan pulled back as quickly as he could, not even caring to wipe himself off before taking his codpiece. Curze was continuing to make a gurgling noise that could be a laugh. His nose was smashed, his face a brutalized mess of swollen flesh and wet meat. Blood and drool leaked from his mouth as he made that awful gurgling noise.  The Emperor rose. "It is not mine."</p><p>Curze's body quaked with laughter.</p><p>"No," Vulkan said.</p><p>Curze stopped laughing.</p><p>"No?" his father asked.</p><p>"No one deserves this. I did not deserve it. But doing it to Curze makes you no better than him."</p><p>"I have made many sacrifices. This will be the least."</p><p>"He deserves death. <em>Death</em>! Kill him, kill him cleanly. Then he will be punished for what he has done. Not this!"</p><p>Curze rose from his knees, from where he had hunched over. He launched himself at Vulkan, movement slower than it should have been but still lightning fast. "Liar!" he shouted. His voice was garbled and indistinct. "Liar! Liar!" He scratched and beat his fists against Vulkan's breastplate. "Hypocrite!"</p><p>The Emperor stepped forwards, and Vulkan wrapped his arms around Curze even as he still flailed at him. He thought suddenly of Nemetor in his arms at Istvaan.</p><p>Curze started, and then began to struggle against his arms, a frantic terror in his pitch-black eyes. He bit against Vulkan's neck guard, kicking at his legs.</p><p>"Do not hurt him." Vulkan said again.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Emperor/Curze/Vulkan, direct continuation of Ch. 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Don't expect further updates soon. I've had this written for a while and just decided to post it now. I have a very nasty writer's block.</p>
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    <p>The Emperor paused. Curze continued to struggle and fight Vulkan, growling and hissing.</p><p>"A compromise," the Emperor said at last.</p><p>"Explain." Vulkan said.</p><p>"If you have higher standards as you say, then so be it. He hurt you more than any other, and so you should judge him. If you will judge him, then I will give him to you as a personal prize-but first, I will take him a last time."</p><p>"A last time." That he was negotiating <em>this</em>, for <em>this man</em>, was nauseatingly wrong to Vulkan. "You will not rape him again after this?"</p><p>"I will not."</p><p>"How many times before?" The words came out quieter than he meant them to.</p><p>The Emperor shook his head. "There are questions you do not want to know the answer to."</p><p>This was Curze's decision. It should be, even as he kicked at Vulkan and twisted in his grip. "Konrad." It was difficult to imagine that he would listen. "Will you decide this?"</p><p>Curze screamed wordlessly and clawed him across the face. Vulkan released him, and his brother looked around the room in wild-eyed panic. As much as Vulkan still saw his face in nightmares, it was difficult to master hate for him like this. A cornered animal.</p><p>A beaten dog. And the abuser was here in the room. At first he had been suspicious of his father when he met him, but he had wanted to believe in him. The thought of this was inconceivable. Monstrous.</p><p>Still, he was wary. Curze's mind was made of vicious shards eager to draw blood, scratching each other just as often as they scratched flesh. And sometimes a prisoner did not want to be freed. Vulkan remembered that. He remembered Nartesh already bleeding and more of his sons in chains and Curze, his mirthless smile. <em>You can run and escape, if you leave them with me. </em>"Konrad."</p><p>Curze <em>flinched</em>. "I can't. I can't. I can't see." He raised a hand, clawing at his forehead and then lunging at Vulkan. He was slowed, still, and Vulkan could just barely catch it even as Curze's nails dragged across his face.</p><p>Curze screamed again. Whatever power of their father's slowed him also must have inhibited his healing, because the bloody mess of his face showed no signs of reforming. Vulkan realized there were tears tracking down his cheeks, leaving brief clean streaks as he crumpled to the floor. He couldn't answer. His tormentor was mad, and he had known that, but he was only getting worse. He could not reason. In this state...No one should be like this. It had to end.</p><p>"Do it."</p><p>"Can't stomach it yourself." Curze grimaced in what might have been a smile, his voice a rasp. "You're not strong enough. It would make you a <em>bad person</em>. So of course, you only let Father rape me. At least being raped by you would be a novel experience." He burst into hysteric laughter, blood bubbling on his lips and nose.</p><p>The Emperor opened his robes, pushing the kneeling Curze on his back and forcing his legs apart to kneel between them. He was huge even compared to Vulkan. Against Curze, the idea of any penetration seemed ludicrous.</p><p>He thought again of Curze and his sons, and he looked away. Curze began to cackle again, and he heard the slap of flesh on flesh and a wince.<br/>He truly hated his hearing at times like this. (It was not their screaming, at least. Or worse, because they were Astartes and they were proud and they would try so hard not to scream.) A snarling hiss of breath with the undertone of a whimper from Curze. Flesh on flesh, again and again. An gasping grunt, Curze again. Louder now-not grabbing or penetration, but an impact.</p><p>He could hear the pace the Emperor set. Hard and rough and brutal. Vulkan knew that those times were painful, but better than the other ones. He wondered if the Emperor would rape Curze as slowly and deliberately as Curze had raped Vulkan, drawing out the pain and humiliation until it was unbearable, or worse, forcing him to enjoy it. Perhaps that was what of him had gone into the making of the Night Haunter. Curze was panting, gasping.</p><p>When he heard the raw whimper come from Curze's throat, Vulkan looked back because Curze was still his brother and he was mad and broken and if anyone deserved this it would be him, but he did not deserve this. Blood was stark on Konrad's thighs where he was stretched horribly around the Emperor's cock, his father's weight bearing down on him. His body was wracked by spasms and tics as much as it was jarred by each of the Emperor's thrusts. The bloody mess of his face had worsened as his jagged teeth tore into his lip, keeping himself quiet.</p><p>Vulkan took his shoulders. Even as Curze lashed out, striking at him and then wildly headbutting the Emperor, he embraced him. He could say nothing.</p><p>Curze's hollow stomach made it too easy to see the bulge of the Emperor's cock in him in a way that should never be. He slumped and shook in a broken guttural sob before his head flew up, pain-maddened eyes glaring at Vulkan. "I <em>hate</em> you. I hate you so much. I wish we were back in the Nightfall so I could destroy you for this. Do you like this? You've wanted to see this, haven't you? All your dreams come true. A chance to make the Night Haunter as low as he made you, to oh-so-graciously give your merciful pity, to show yourself how wonderful and shining and <em>perfect</em> you are-" He sobbed again.</p><p>Vulkan wrapped his arms around his bony shoulders and held him tight. "I never dreamed of this," he whispered.</p><p>The Emperor did not react to his judgement. Instead, he thrust again and again, pushing Curze's head against Vulkan's shoulder. Curze could barely struggle against his father without making the pain from his rape even worse, so he simply battered at Vulkan's armor as he wept. Vulkan held him, knowing it would not help but still hoping that it would.</p><p>As fast as his father had fucked him, it still seemed to take an eternity before it ended. The Emperor was as inscrutable as ever, only the thick semen that rapidly tinted pink as it streamed out of the Night Haunter a sign he had enjoyed it more than he would a duel. Curze continued to struggle against them both to little effect, snarling and growling in rage.</p><p>"He is not grateful to you," the Emperor said. "He will never be. He only wants to kill you and see you broken and suffering. If you turn your back on him, he will try to do everything he did to you during the Heresy and more."</p><p>Vulkan nodded.</p><p>"You are giving him mercy he does not deserve."</p><p>"He does not..." Vulkan realized what he was saying. "He does not deserve to be raped. We are better than him. We have to be."</p><p>"So you say, and so you were made to be." The Emperor sighed. "You may take him as your prisoner."</p>
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